


Scapegoat

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [34]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Post TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux doesn't handle the loss of his baby, the Starkiller, very well.





	

Hux is in control. He is. He is perfectly in control. He doesn’t _do_ out of control. Not **ever**. The son of Brendol Hux has to be above all suspicion, and he’s made sure he’s excelled at _everything_ he tried (and avoided anything he suspected he couldn’t win at). He’s in control, and fine, and absolutely _not_ going into meltdown on the bridge, in front of everyone.

Except… he sort of is. The damage reports are wheeling past. The list of souls confirmed lost increasing by the moment. The _Finalizer_ had been in orbit above Starkiller, and once he’d gotten everything sorted with Kylo Ren, he’d come up here.

And. How many hours? Twelve? No. Fifteen? No. Two. Wait?

He isn’t sure, but he knows it’s been a long, long time. Barking orders, reading reports, analysing information, presenting a strong, fierce, powerful, reassuring front.

_His baby. His precious baby. Gone. Just like that. Gone._

The crew needs their General. He knows that. He knows, but–

 _Useless. You’re useless. I told you. You can’t do this, after all. Promoted too fast. You’re cannon-fodder, boy. You’re nothing_.

No. He’s not nothing, but the voice inside is louder than it normally is, and it freezes him into place. His nostrils flare in a panic he’s trying to keep inside, hoping no one notices. Hoping no one is smart enough to see the way his hand shakes when he tries for a swig of caf. Hoping no one sees his jaw tightening.

Sleep dep. Caf poisoning. Bodily functions he can pass off over… over… _inadequacy_. Everyone on the bridge is on their third shift already, no real relief for any of them. He’s had to order two of them carted off to medical, and if a third goes, he’s worried he won’t be able to manage the operations. There just isn’t enough trained personnel here - not… they’d been running skeleton levels while the… while…

His heart clenches in his chest like someone is squeezing too hard. His head dances, and lights seem to sparkle around his vision because he’s forgotten to breathe. If he breathes, he might hyperventilate. _Then_ they’ll know. But he’s sure they can hear the odd wheezing he makes around the few gasps he gets in. They’re _looking_ at him. They’re **looking at him** , and not because he’s the General. 

They _know_.

Someone talks, but he doesn’t hear them. It’s sounds. Sounds he understands, but can’t… click with. Vowels and consonants and then there’s an officer right in his face. Hux steps back, hand going for his blaster before he realises what he’s doing. _Instinct_.

“ **General**.”  


Wild eyes turn, find the man in the doorway. _Ren_. He’s bandaged - it’s obvious - across the face. Unmasked, pale, bloodied. He’s barely standing upright, and Hux wonders if he’s bleeding all over the deckplate.

Weirdly, he can’t move. All he can do is stare at the man.

“Sir… Lord Ren… needs you,” Mitaka murmurs at him.  


An opening. An excuse. Blame it on Kylo. Pretend it’s a command decision. Pretend he’s pandering to the Leader, when he really just needs to _run_. He nods, and barks to the Lieutenant to take over, and to report to him if needed.

He’s sure some of the words come out wrong, but then he’s in the small, secluded, soundproofed command suite and Kylo is there.

“What are you doing out of the med bay?” he asks, his hands wringing over and over.  


“You wouldn’t come down.”  


“You were being treated, I didn’t need to–”  


“For _you_ ,” Kylo says, his eyes full of sorrow. “For you.”  


“But, I–” Fuck. Fuck. Did everyone know?  


“Pretend I had a tantrum. Whatever it takes. You’re resting here before you destroy yourself. I’ll lean against the door and block anyone coming in.”  


“I don’t need to–”  


Kylo grabs his butterfly fingers, clasps them, holds them still. “Let me help you.”

He doesn’t deserve help. If you need help, you’re weak. He’s anything _but_ weak. But he does feel like he might explode at any moment, and his heart won’t calm down. “I’m fine,” he lies.

Kylo scoops him up in his arms (stupid man!) and then sinks them awkwardly down to the ground, despite Hux going stiff and flailing in distress. He shuffles until Hux is sitting between his legs, resting back against his chest. Warm arms wrap around him, stroking slowly over his torso, easing out the wriggles and bucks.

“It’s okay. I needed you, remember? And the Leader told you to take care of me.”  


Some taking care of. He’s curled up in Kylo’s arms, jittering and shaking. “They need me.”

“They had you. You got them safe. Now… rest. Even for a little while. Trust me on this.”  


“But I–”  


Hands slide over his eyes, and Kylo shushes him, rocking him. The man’s sliced to bits and he still came running. Hux doesn’t deserve him, does he?

“It’s alright,” Kylo reminds him, like Hux has done for him so many times before. “Just for a few hours. It’s alright.”  


Hux can’t exactly sleep, but he feels some of the panic abate. It eases out, and he’s not sure if it’s Kylo doing it, or if he’s managing it himself.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter. No one knows.

Just them.

The thudding slows, the restlessness in his body dies. The voice is still there, but he can try to static it out again. The quiet sounds by his ear help with that, and he clutches at him, pushing out the gratitude he never seems able to voice.

 _Thank you. I love you. I’m okay._ Or he will be. Soon.


End file.
